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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083486">Professional at not getting murdered</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya113/pseuds/Zoya113'>Zoya113</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dadgens, F/M, I’m so sorry idk why zoey speaks like that in this fic, kinda father figure hidgens, some violent recounts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya113/pseuds/Zoya113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul thinks Emma listens to too much true crime, Emma thinks it’s for the best</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emma Perkins &amp; Henry Hidgens, Paul Matthews/ Emma Perkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Professional at not getting murdered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh holy shit,” Emma awoke with a start, her head foggy and heavy. </p><p>Her eyes glanced over at her alarm clock, five minutes until it was set to go off anyways. </p><p>She rubbed her head. She had had another nightmare. It was abstract enough not to be too frightening after she was awake though anyways, she had just been having them a lot recently.</p><p>“Hey,” Paul grunted, rolling onto his side with his eyes still shut. “Is it time for work?” He asked.</p><p>“No, sorry. I just had a weird nightmare,” she sighed. </p><p>“Again?”</p><p>She nodded into his side, rolling over to rest her head on his shoulder briefly. “Yeah. It’s okay though, at least I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night again. Small victories.”</p><p>He gave a sleepy whine. “I wish I could help you stop getting them.” </p><p>She shrugged. “Oh, yeah. It’s not a big deal though.” She pulled up the sheets, Paul had very cold skin, he was not nice to huddle with in the mornings. </p><p>“I wonder why you get them so often? I barely have nightmares,” he blinked open his eyes to give her a concerned look. “Is it about like-?”</p><p>“What, trauma? Oh nah. Just like. People breaking in or Beanies getting robbed, all that weird sorta stuff you know? I had this dream I like, killed someone. And I could just really feel it, like my heart is still racing.”</p><p>Paul let out a worried laugh. “Red flag?”</p><p>She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak when her alarm started to buzz. “Oh shit!” She sat upright to grab her phone, shutting it off. “God, that kinda scared me!” She hung her head with a groan, sitting up. “I forgot to turn it off, that nearly cut five years off my lifespan, jeez.” </p><p>“I wonder why you get them?” Paul thought aloud, sinking back into his sheets. </p><p>Emma shrugged. “Yeah. I wonder why? I have no idea.” </p><p>———————————————————</p><p>“Autopsy showed that the victim was still alive until the last blow, implying she suffered a painful and slow death. A total of 74 cuts were recorded on her face alone with a further 230 on her body,” the podcast host explained with an almost disrespectful flair to the information. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Emma nodded, almost impressed by how angry someone would have to be to do that. She was already piecing together the crime in her head, it would have to be someone the victim knew obviously, or some sort of man with certain anger issues that may or may not be caused by not being able to get a girlfriend. She was sort of betting on the former though. It was too violent for just a tantrum. It sounded premeditated. </p><p>She wrung out her wash towel over the sink, dragging it over the front counter as she continued listening. </p><p>“The second victim was found in the back room of her workplace, still breathing but just barely, and was raced to the hospital.” </p><p>Emma shivered. If she died, she would prefer not a slow one ideally. And at work? God. How she would hate to die at Beanies of all places.</p><p>She took out a headphone for a moment just to listen out. Zoey and Nora hadn’t  made much noise in a while actually. </p><p>She turned around to face the door to the backroom, putting her cleaning rag down in favour of digging her pocket knife out of her messenger bag. She started at the back door for a moment. There was no way it should be so silent back there, Zoey was washing cups and Nora was supposed to be bringing in deliveries from the back door.- surely that should make some noise. </p><p>She paused her podcast, tucking her phone into her apron. Silence.</p><p>Part of her brain reasoned that silence was not screaming, and it was a little too early for someone to successfully murder two employees all without her hearing. However she did recall a murder case she had seen where the victim hadn’t heard anything coming because they were wearing noise cancelling headphones and listening to music.</p><p>She put a hand to the doorframe, going to push it open when she heard something smash up against the front door.</p><p>She jumped, whipping around with her breath in her throat. </p><p>There was a tall man, black down coat and gloves, thumping on the door. He was looking right at her, beckoning her over to the locked door. </p><p>She stood there, paralysed as he tried the handle to the locked door. </p><p>She gulped, stumbling back to the wall and grabbing her pocket knife tighter. </p><p>“Can you open the door?” The man asked, his voice slightly muffled through the glass. </p><p>“Why?” She questioned, raising her voice back at him so he could hear. She didn’t take her eyes off him for a second as he tried the handle again. </p><p>“It’s locked.”</p><p>“We aren’t open yet,” she told him. “You can come back later,” she was blunt. She would not mess around with a stranger. </p><p>“I just need to tell you something!” He tried the handle again. “Can you open up?”</p><p>God. He was persistent. “Why?” Her grip on her pocket knife was tight, she could feel her fingernails forming half moon welts on the other side of her palm. </p><p>“Emma!” The door she was leaning against opened up and she nearly fell through, she felt Nora steady her before moving by. “What are you doing? Let him in.”</p><p>“Wait! Who is he?” She grabbed Nora’s arm. “I don’t trust him.”</p><p>“That’s the deliver man, Emma,” she scolded, hurrying to open the door as to not keep him waiting.</p><p>“Erk, cringe moment,” Zoey made a weird sound in the back of her throat as she walked by. </p><p>“What the hell does that mean?” Emma folded her pocket knife back up. </p><p>Zoey gave an uncomfortable laugh, eyes wide. “Uh, is that a knife? You pulling a knife on the delivery man? Is this allowed? Is that allowed?” She pointed with her whole arm outstretched despite being only a few steps away. </p><p>Emma didn’t really think she was snitching because she dropped the topic two seconds later. </p><p>“Emma,” Nora locked the front door again after speaking to the man, returning to the counter entirely unscathed of course. “That was the delivery man, the back door was locked he just needed us to open it, I was wondering where he was.” she explained. “I know we aren’t open yet, but even if that was a customer you don’t technically have to bark at them.”</p><p>“I thought he was trying to break in,” Emma confessed instead so Nora didn’t think she was chasing away business. </p><p>“She has a pocket knife,” Zoey repeated, pulling out her phone and leaning up against the counter. </p><p>Nora put her hands on her hips. “Oh what for? Why’d someone want to break in if they can see you right there?” She tried to explain rather logically. </p><p>Emma let out a defensive laugh. “I thought he was gonna kill me. I don’t know.” </p><p>She sighed. “I think you’re getting too jumpy.” She picked up Emma’s cleaning cloth to continue wiping down the bench. “It’s ‘caus you listen to all those true crime stories.”</p><p>“I only listen to scary stuff when the sun is actually up,” Zoey chimed in rather unhelpfully. “I listen to music in the morning, maybe you should try it.”</p><p>But Emma didn’t want to. She wasn’t scared she was just reasonable, America was one of the first world countries wth the highest homicide rating. It was reasonable to assume a man dressed in all black trying to sway her to come unlock the door was suspicious. Although interestingly enough Guatemala actually had a much higher ranking. Number fourteen globally. So she considered herself pretty successful at not getting murdered. </p><p>“Emma, you aren’t getting murdered at 7am, I promise you,” Nora stared right into her eyes as if to assure her but the eye contact just made her uncomfortable. </p><p>“Yes. Got it, ma’am,” she confirmed as she  moved on to setting up the coffee filters as Zoey and Nora returned to setting up the back rooms. She held a hand to her heart, that was an unnecessary scare this early in the morning, no one needed to try the doorknob that many times. </p><p>She plugged her headphones back in to finish up opening. </p><p>“The third victim was found bludgeoned to death in the back room with three strikes to the back of her skull.”</p><p>“Wow, holy shit.”<br/>
———————————————————</p><p>By the middle of the day, as Zoey had promised, the thrill of true crime stories didn’t get to her anymore. Not like they ever scared her in the first place though. She had heard one too many true crime stories to be scared by them anymore anyways. </p><p>She barely batted an eye at the funny looking, six foot tall man with the black hair and plaid jacket who had been staring at her from across the road. And no she did not just profile him and check the time just in case she had to provide a witness testimony. She didn’t even worry about that sort of stuff at all!</p><p>“Hey, here’s the order,” Emma placed the carry tray down on Melissa’s desk. “Are you coming down to Paul’s office for your break?” She asked.</p><p>Melissa nodded. “I will, I’m just looking at this security footage,” she reached out a hand to try and locate her tea, eyes still on the screen.</p><p>“Security footage?” She asked, interest piqued. </p><p>“Yeah, last night some guy tried to come into work,” she snorted. “We were closed.”</p><p>“Wait, what? Really?” Emma skirted around her desk to come watch the footage with her. “Yeah, that happened to me this morning too!” Melissa didn’t need to know it was the delivery man. “What did you do?” </p><p>“Well I had to get up to go open the door and tell him he was at the wrong building.” She tapped her computer screen where she could see the man talking to someone inside the building now, but the camera angle wouldn’t let her see Melissa. </p><p>“You opened the door for a stranger?” She inquired, incredulous. </p><p>She nodded, spinning side to side in her chair. “Yeah I told him he was actually looking for the place across the street but he kept saying no this is the address! And I said well ‘sir we’re shut and we certainly aren’t a Walmart,’ but he just kept trying to get in.”</p><p>“Really? What the hell Melissa, and you just kept talking to him?” Emma’s jaw dropped. “What if he was a killer or something? What if he did something to you?” </p><p>“Listen. If he was a killer he was certainly wasting my time. After explaining to him for the fifth time we weren’t a walmart and that he could see the sign if he just turned around I was wishing he’d just stab me or something! How stupid can you be? It’s right behind you!”</p><p>Emma scoffed. “Why would you ever open a door for a stranger after hours?” Man. She knew Melissa didn’t like starting drama but that was going to cost her her life one of these days. </p><p>“Well he looked polite!” Melissa tried to promise her. “Look. I just wanted to see if he actually went to the walmart or if he tried the next building down.”</p><p>The man was dressed up in a black jumper and tracksuits and a cap. Certainly not the type Emma would open up for once the doors were locked. </p><p>“Yeah but, you were alone in the office! What if?” Emma wanted to persuade her, make her a little more street smart. Not everyone was as great at not being murdered as her. </p><p>“Well I watched a documentary once. You’re way more likely to be killed by someone you know. People don’t usually go to that amount of effort to kill someone they’ve never met,” she recounted the fact Emma knew very, very well, all while still spinning in her chair like this was no big deal. “I was watching this set of murder documentaries for background noise. I’m not too dense on the topic myself. He was totally not a murderer, I could tell. I did the calculations and took the risk.” </p><p>Emma scoffed, speechless. Clearly she was not an expert if she was opening the door for anyone when she was in the office alone. “You’re awful at math then.”</p><p>“Gaydar but for criminals,” was her only answer. “Oh my god. That’s just profiling,” she finished the joke like that was not her original answer and she had just come up with it halfway through and she thought it was mighty clever. “No, but I could tell he was harmless.” </p><p>She bit her lip, letting out a concerned wince. “I know but even then right? Opening the door for a man when you’re in the office alone?” As the tape was rewinding she could see the man trying the door quite a few times. It just rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t want anything to happen to Melissa. “Like, name four men you’d feel safe alone in a room with, not including family.” </p><p>“Oh easy,” Melissa rolled her eyes. “Bill, Paul, uhh, Mr Davidson,” she counted out on her fingers.</p><p>“Why’d you hesitate?” Emma cut her short.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Melissa exclaimed. “I don’t have a list of all the men I know in my head, I was getting there okay! You’re letting the coffee get cold stop pestering me, I’ll come down in a second and I’ll bring Ted. I’m just trying to watch this funny man go to walmart okay?” She crossed her arms, looking like she was about to throw some sort of tantrum. </p><p>Emma snorted, having proven her point. Hopefully Melissa wouldn’t make the same mistake again. </p><p>She picked up the tray of drinks again to carry it downstairs to Paul and their friends. </p><p>“Hey, delivery,” she rapped her knuckles on the half open office door, and Paul edged his chair back to welcome her. </p><p>“Oh! Hi Emma! That’s so lovely of you,” Bill beamed. “No problems getting in today?”</p><p>“No, why?” She pulled out Paul’s drink from the tray to take a sip. </p><p>She had been having bad dreams lately, waking up in the middle of the night all for nothing. She was just bothered with how much sleep she was losing. </p><p>“Mr Davidson had us all change security codes, apparently a stranger tried to break in last night,” Bill continued.</p><p>“Oh I knew it, Melissa said it wasn’t anyone serious but he had totally whack vibes,” she gasped, glad they all agreed.<br/>
“Like, the walmart sign is right there surely he could see it.”</p><p>“Well I’m just glad no one was hurt,” Charlotte interrupted as if to cut the grim conversation short. </p><p>“Yeah. You know if someone wanted to break in and actually do some harm I- shit!” She flinched as someone laid a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Wow, you jump awfully high for someone with a bad leg,” it was just Ted. He learnt over her to grab his drink out of the delivery tray. “What are you so scared of?” He went to go stand in his spot up against the wall. </p><p>Emma shrugged him off with a scowl, delivering everyone their drinks before coming to take her seat in Paul’s lap to watch him work. </p><p>“Ohh we should’ve ordered something for Austin. It’s his birthday today,” Bill shared a nervous look with Charlotte and Paul. </p><p>“You know most serial killers are born in November,” Emma spoke up. “I’d get him a drink as a safety precaution,” she snorted. “What month are you guys born in?”</p><p>“I don’t think I want to answer that question all of a sudden,” Charlotte gave a cautious giggle, pulling her chair in.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Paul sighed. “Sorry. Emma has been watching non stop true crime lately,” he warned everyone. “And she has all sorts of facts like this,” he gave an affectionate groan to let her know he was proud but would prefer if she kept it to a minimum at work. </p><p>“Hey. You’re lucky. I am just studying the real world okay? I could spot a serial killer from a mile away with my expertise I’m keeping us safe!” She tapped a hand to her forehead.</p><p>“No you couldn’t,” Ted scoffed. “That’s their whole thing. Psychopaths totally blend in!” He corrected her.</p><p>“Yeah well if anyone ever encountered a killer I’d be most likely to survive,” she declared. </p><p>“What? That sounds fake. You’re tiny. A killer could just pick you up and take you away,” Ted teased. “Scoop you right up. What would you do about that?”</p><p>She rolled her head back to give Paul a disapproving look. “I wouldn’t be near a killer in the first place!”</p><p>“How would you know though!” Melissa huffed, perhaps still upset about being told off about last night. </p><p>“Well, let’s look at it reasonably. I think Charlotte is the most likely to end up being killed if any of us,” she declared.</p><p>“Oh,” Charlotte’s eyes squinted, her brows knitting as she tried to do the math there. “But I thought- why me first?”</p><p>“Well more women die than men, and being married to a cop might be more of a hinderer than a helper.”</p><p>“Especially when that cop is Sam,” Ted cut in. </p><p>“Oh shut up,” Melissa stomped on his foot in warning, stopping him before anyone could explore that topic. </p><p>She bit her lip, glancing down. “Oh well if anything happened Sam’d already be there though,” she attempted to explain her path of thinking. </p><p>“Yes, because Sam is always around,” Ted hinted, at least trying to push her in the right direction. “Twenty four seven, yeah.”</p><p>“Oh. Well. Why would anyone want to kill me in the first place?” She turned to Emma, the deemed expert on this topic. </p><p>“That’s not an important part of the hypothetical, but let’s say because you look like a gentle lady. You’d be an easy target,” she answered. “You have to get inside the mind of a killer.” </p><p>Emma took the curious silence as a segue to continue. “Then Bill, because again, you’re at a disadvantage if you aren’t a straight white cis man,” she gave him a sympathetic click of her tongue. “Killers are angry, they hate minorities.” </p><p>“Oh.” Bill didn’t seem very happy to hear that either, and he shared an empathetic look with Charlotte. The both of them didn’t seem to be too happy. </p><p>“And plus, you have a daughter and I think you’d absolutely put yourself at risk to protect her.”</p><p>“Well, yes I would,” he seemed happier to settle on that than the prior suggestion. </p><p>Emma then cast a skeptical glance at Melissa. “Then you, obviously.“</p><p>“‘Obviously?’” She repeated.</p><p>“Yeah. Apparently you’d just let a killer right in!” She sounded like she was joking but she was a little more upset with her friend’s careless behaviour. </p><p>“No I’d fight him off with my bat if someone broke into my apartment,” she tried to counter.</p><p>Emma shook her head. Crime cases never went that way. “Not if the man got in last night, you didn’t have your bat on you then did you?” She reminded Melissa rather smugly.</p><p>“Uh, well-!”</p><p>“You’d let him in and once you realise he’s a killer you’d try and lock yourself in the backroom but he’d have all night to break in and what would you do then?”</p><p>“I’m very uncomfortable with the energy we have created in the studio,” Melissa tapped her hands together, not wanting to be reprimanded again. “Okay. I get it.”</p><p>“And your phone would be out of charge because it’d be the end of the work day so who are you gonna call for help?” Emma pressed. </p><p>Her eyes were quite full of horror, staring at the ground as she tried to find some words that could make it passed her pursed lips. </p><p>“I am not okay with this strangely visual hypothetical,” she raised her hand, and Emma was going to continue but Paul tapped her on the shoulder and shook her head. Emma didn’t appreciate that because she was trying to scare Melissa into more street smart behaviour. “What if my phone had charge?”</p><p>“Who’re you gonna call, the cops?”</p><p>She heaved a sigh, shaking her heavy head. “I’d rather die standing then live kneeling.” </p><p>“Paul wouldn’t call the cops either,” Emma changed topics. “Because he ‘wouldn’t want to inconvenience them,’ but I don’t think a killer would be after him.”</p><p>“Yes,” Paul nodded his head although he didn’t know what Emma was on about. He just didn’t want to be grouped in with the rest of the victims. </p><p>“I think he has a healthy dose of skepticism in him,” she patted his chest. “Not that I am not going to protect him from killers for the rest of our lives though. I think he would pass out in any mildly stressful situation.”</p><p>“Well I don’t know if-“</p><p>“Also he has terrible social anxiety so I think if anyone tried to come into our house he just wouldn’t get the door,” she elaborated. Not that she had thought all of these scenarios out in depth or anything. “And if he did I also live there so like, I would just handle it for him. I always keep my pocket knife on me.” </p><p>“Hey. You missed me, are you saying I’d survive a killer?” Ted asked, his tone already boasting and his nose already up. </p><p>“Oh let’s be real Ted. You are most likely to be the killer. You look like you’d throw your friends under the bus even if you weren’t.” </p><p>“Ted literally ate my lunch out of the fridge  and he never owned up to it but I know it was him,” Melissa piped up like it was relevant to the debate. “But also if Ted was the killer I would absolutely win in a fight.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t,” Ted elbowed her. </p><p>“I would and I will. Six PM out in the car park,” she huffed, storming out.</p><p>“She’s joking,” Ted assured them. </p><p>“I’m not!” She called back. </p><p>Clearly Melissa hadn’t learnt the lesson she was trying to foster. </p><p>Ted rolled his eyes, gesturing to Emma. “What about you then? What makes you so great?” </p><p>She clicked her tongue, tapping her hands on Paul’s desk. “I’m a self proclaimed pro at not being murdered actually. For starters you always just assume you’re in a horror movie.”</p><p>Bill frowned. “That sounds like it must be a bit stressful.” </p><p>“No, no,” she shook her head. “You always carry stuff with you, I’ve got a pocket knife and pepper spray. You just always have to be on high alert, lock your doors and don’t mess with strangers. Easy stuff when you think about it though right?” She tilted her head back only to see that Paul seemed to not be so approving.</p><p>“That sounds a little too paranoid,” Paul chided. “It’s because you’re watching too much true crime.”</p><p>“There’s not ‘too much,’ it’s literally just a genre of TV I like.” </p><p>“Emma, last night you checked to see if anyone was hiding in the closest before bed!” He didn’t even try to keep his voice down.</p><p>She held up her hands, sliding off his lap. “Okay, look. Well, when we’re hit by a home invasion don’t ask me for help babe, you’re on your own.”</p><p>Paul stood up, grabbing his coffee to talk her to the door. It was time for her to head back to work. </p><p>Their fingers laced together as they headed off towards the door, and Emma was about to tell him about this shitty customer she had had earlier when he cleared his throat.</p><p>“I think you really scared them back there,” he admitted with a chuckle. “It’s not nice to tell people they’re gonna die.” </p><p>“Oh they aren’t necessarily going to die Paul, I meant that all hypothetically,” she cleared it up. </p><p>He winced. “It’s just, to constantly be living like you’re in a horror movie must be a crazy way to live,” he tried.  </p><p>She shrugged. “It’s fun though!”</p><p>“You don’t think it’s maybe a little too stressful?” He swung her hand in his anxiously. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been having bad dreams lately.” </p><p>She rolled her eyes, swinging his hand back harder. “Nah, man. They don’t scare me. Promise!” She dropped his hand so she could cross her arms, giving him a friendly nudge. “See you after work?” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m just gonna stick around a little later tonight to make sure no criminals get in this time or anything,” he joked. “But I’ll be home around seven, seven thirty?” </p><p>“Oh, I’ll already be home. I’ll secure the base for you. Make sure there are no serial killers hiding out in the closets or anything,” she joked. “I’m not obsessive Paul, I just think it’s interesting stuff!” She knew he was a little squeamish though, so she didn’t like to talk about it much around him to spare his sanity. “Look, I’ll ease it on the documentaries if you want. I’ll pace myself,” she offered.</p><p>He grinned. “I think that’d be really nice for the both of us.”<br/>
———————————————————</p><p>“The girl, only twenty three in age was abducted walking home from her college course. And the thing is, there’s no footage of it anywhere. We only have one eye witness testimony and the witness died of a stroke the following week. The girl hadn’t been seen since.”</p><p>“God,” Emma muttered, glancing side to side as she prepared to cross the road. She adjusted her headphones so she could hear her podcast a little better over the rushing of traffic and the winter winds. </p><p>She took a sip of her coffee, chewing on her straw as she waited to cross. She usually didn’t drink beanies coffee, but she was always struck with fatigue around five now that her sleep schedule was worse than usual. By seven she was waiting for nothing but sleep. </p><p>Her other hand was deep in her pocket, fiddling with the heel of her pocket knife. The sun set early in winter. It was dark and blustery already and she was still fifteen minutes from home. What a day for Paul not to be able to give her a ride. </p><p>“One of the suspects actually had a criminal record for three charges of attempted murder and had already served a jail term beforehand, but it was never disclosed why police let him go.” </p><p>Emma hunched her shoulders up to make her posture a little more intimidating, walking a little faster. Abduction cases always intrigued her, was there truly nowhere you were safe from crime? </p><p>Right off the street was a little messed up too. </p><p>She eyed the road just as a caution, hearing a car coming up behind her. </p><p>She paused her her podcast just to keep an ear out. </p><p>It drove right by her though, thank god. She was about to turn her podcast back on when it circled back around, coming back her way. </p><p>She picked up her pace, hoping to cross by the car before it reached her so if it was coming for her it would have to turn back around again, and she could make some distance on it by then. </p><p>Holy shit, it was actually slowing down!</p><p>She veered across the sidewalk to jog right up by the buildings, as far from the road as she could, trying not to look at the car. If the driver knew it had been spotted it would stop hesitating. </p><p>Ah shit. She better not be kidnapped right after telling Ted she would not be kidnapped. That would be bad. She’d give him the right to laugh at her funeral though. </p><p>She couldn’t really run on her bad leg, and the scar was pretty obvious in her work shorts - dumb mistake. Talk about being an easy target. She did pick up the speed of her jog though. </p><p>“Emma!” </p><p>She didn’t know why but she dropped her coffee when she heard her name called, spilling the cup all over the sidewalk. </p><p>She turned around, only to see with an almost drowning sense of relief it was Hidgens’ car.</p><p>“Emma, do you need a ride? What are you doing out so late?” He asked, his window rolled down.</p><p>Emma wiped a splash of coffee off her cheek, glancing at her cup on the floor. Not her proudest moment. “Hey, professor,” she gave a sheepish wave, taking her headphones out and tucking them into her pocket alongside her pocket knife as she hopped into the passenger seat, a little too bashful to talk it up.</p><p>“You know dear. ‘Throwing your coffee on the ground’ doesn’t really fit in with the flight fright freeze response.”</p><p>She gave a stiff nod of her head. “That’s implying I was scared, Professor, I just dropped it,” she defended herself. “Why would I be scared?”</p><p>“In hindsight I figured I should not have circled back. That might’ve been a bit intimidating.” </p><p>She waved a hand dismissively. “Even if you were a killer I would’ve known what to do. I would’ve just pretended to make a phone call or gone up and knocked on that house up there. I would’ve text someone my location, I’m not getting kidnapped that easily.” </p><p>“Oh well I’m glad. It’s dangerous out at night Emma. All sorts of strange things can happen. Serial killers, aliens, good thing it isn’t a full moon yet. Or the witching hour.”</p><p>“Oh, well,” she made a high noise. “I was thinking more the first thing but.” She was used to her professor’s antics and all the strange thing he believed in by now. </p><p>She was just glad she was out of the wind and the dark and was being fast tracked back home. She was very grateful it was just the professor. She really thought it was someone out to get her for a second. </p><p>She sunk into her seat, a little tired from the days adrenaline as she watched cars race by on either side of them. </p><p>She was a bit exhausted honestly. A combination of lost sleep and a hectic work day and the constant worry all of her friends were having run ins with serial killers and were not as practiced as her in not being murdered. </p><p>“You look a little drowsy,” Hidgens commenter, turning the corner.</p><p>Emma couldn’t go to sleep though because she would have to keep an eye on the road, make sure Hidgens’ didn’t crash. “Yeah kinda. I thought someone was breaking into work today,” she laughed at herself. “Although apparently someone kind of did try to break into CCRP the other night.” </p><p>“How curious,” he hummed. “Perhaps it is a good thing I caught you. You were in the right place at the right time, Emma!” </p><p>“Yeah. You just scared me when you doubled back. I thought I was about to get abducted.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Well that’s more than enough of a fright for one day. Is Paul not home?”</p><p>She shook her head. “Staying late.”</p><p>“Do you need me to wait until he gets home?” He offered. </p><p>Emma considered it for a moment. If there was a criminal on the loose perhaps it would be nice to have some company. </p><p>But no. She shook her head again. “It’s fine Hidgens. I’ll lock the door, I’ll be fine. If anyone breaks in I’ll just catch ‘em by surprise!” She joked, taking off her seatbelt as he parked. “I really appreciate the drive home but you don’t have to look after me. I can defend myself.”</p><p>“Oh I wasn’t implying that. I was just wondering if you needed the company,” he tapped his hands to the steering wheel. “That’s fine, dear! Have a good evening.” He stretched an arm across the console to give her a one armed hug before she got out, waving goodbye. </p><p>“Ahh,” she sighed as she unlocked the front door, ensuring she locked it behind her without thinking twice. Another successful day of not being murdered. </p><p>She could be safe in her own home. </p><p>She settled down on the couch, pulling out her phone. Her battery was low because it was the end of the day. “God.” That meant she would have to get up and charge it soon which sucked because she was already comfy on the couch and she had promised Paul no more true crime documentaries.</p><p>So she took to mindless scrolling until she had the energy to get up, and of course to get some background noise she went back to her podcasts which were not technically documentaries and therefore did not break the rules they had set this afternoon. </p><p>After that car incident though she didn’t quite want another story about abductions, and so she set on another one. </p><p>“Tonight, listeners. We’ve got a rather disturbing case. It seriously kept me up at night so I know you’ll enjoy it.”</p><p>Emma let out an entertained laugh, snuggling into the couch and turning her volume up. </p><p>“We’ve got a true crime case that occurred only in 2000 so not that long ago actually. It’s a classic home alone home invasion that’s remained unsolved ever since despite the abundance of evidence. Finger prints everywhere, clothes, the murder weapons. The killer snuck into the house while the home owner was preparing dinner. She didn’t hear the lock being snapped off because she was playing music while she was cooking.”</p><p>Emma’s laugh became slightly more upset, turning down the volume as she continued listening. Ugh. Eerie. She was considering getting up to go check the closets again. </p><p>“Blood evidence shows there was a run in in the hallway where the victim most likely saw the killer. She tried to run which implies she might not have known the killer, which raises the question as to why he would put so much effort into breaking in.”</p><p>And then she heard something. A slight rattling of the doorknob. </p><p>She turned the volume down, peering over the side of the couch. </p><p>She could see the handle, shaking up and down. She took out her headphones, holding her breath.</p><p>It rattled for another moment. </p><p>If it was Paul he would’ve just used his keys, surely. </p><p>She stepped silently off the couch, avoiding the creaky floorboard. She stared at the door, handling her pocket knife.</p><p>Then the door stopped rattling. </p><p>She took a step forward, trying to peer ever so slightly out the front window, but no one seemed to be there.</p><p>That’s when she heard a noise around the side, the crunching of leaves headed for the back door down the side path. </p><p>She crouched down, trying to think, barely remembering to breath. What the hell? Paul would’ve just knocked. </p><p>She stayed low as she hurried back to the couch to grab her phone, scrambling to call Paul. If it was him she could just get him on the phone easy as that. And if it wasn’t, she could let him know what was happening. </p><p>She ripped out her headphones, the noise of them clattering to the floor painfully loud, almost as loud as her heart crashing against her ribs.</p><p>She typed in her passcode, swiping to the second screen, entering her phone app. She tried to go to her most recents but her hands were shaking and she hit contacts instead. Ah shit. Maybe it’d be faster to call. But all of a sudden she was blanking on what she had called him. Served him right when she gave all her contacts the shittiest names she could think of. Shit like ‘local lesbian’ and ‘theatre kid extraordinaire’ and ‘dumb stupid idiot asshole man’ but what the hell had she saved Paul as? Certainly not Paul Matthews it would seem. And god she had never realised how many contacts she had.</p><p>She dropped her phone back down on the couch, making a dive for the back door when she remembered she hadn’t locked it. She slammed up against it, turning the lock just as she felt pressure on the door frame. </p><p>She stayed still, listening to it rattle. And then someone kicked it, trying to push it harder.</p><p>She moved away from the door, crouching down by the fridge where she could see both the front and back door. </p><p>She could make a run for the bathroom and lock the door, but then she’d be stuck in there, and she wanted to be able to run if she had to. </p><p>Faintly, she could hear a ring tone. </p><p>Whoever was outside was calling someone, and if it really was Paul her phone certainly wasn’t ringing and she couldn’t imagine who else he was calling.</p><p>Her phone was just sitting there on the couch. She’d have to collect it before she went anywhere, she’d have to tell Paul not to come home, and to get Sam or Doug or Rob on the phone or something. Shit, she’d never really spoken with police before. Not to report a crime. She supposed she’d get the 911 hotline, it was a little more tolerable than talking with the police. Whatever happened she had to think quickly. </p><p>Crouching, she raced back to the couch, hopping the creaky floorboard and landing on one foot to minimise the noise made, she grabbed her phone, trying to turn it on. It was dead. Oh shit. She was really in it now.</p><p>She crossed back to the kitchen, staying below the window level. Dumb move having all the lights on, whoever was out there knew he was home. She exchanged her pocket knife for the butchers knife in their bottom kitchen draw. This guy chose the wrong house to fuck with. </p><p>Hiding behind the kitchen counter she set her eyes on the door. She was still squatting down so she was below eye line but ready to run when she had to. </p><p>She’d go for a blow to the leg, wouldn’t be fatal but no one would be running then. She was patching herself up, she knew just how hard she had to strike. She didn’t want to be gentle or pull her punches. This was serious. She was actually going to stab someone.</p><p>Paul’s cousin was a lawyer. He could probably get her off for self defence if she actually did break the law. Things would be fine. She could handle this, just like she had sworn up and down she knew what to do if she ever encountered a killer - and they chose the wrong girl to mess with. No one gets past Emma Perkins: extraordinaire at not being murdered!</p><p>And then a key entered the lock, oh. It was just Paul.</p><p>She smacked the butchers knife down on the table before he could see it, tucking away her pocket knife and brushing out her hair with her hands. “Hey, Paul.”</p><p>“Oh my god, are you okay?” He asked, shutting the door behind him. </p><p>“Huh, yeah why?” Her voice caught in her throat though. </p><p>“You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something!” And paul was not usually very good at picking up on expressions, either.</p><p>She rubbed her hands over her face, realising how sweaty she was. “Why didn’t you come in through the front door?” She quickly deflected any emotional talk. </p><p>“I left my front door key at work!” He exclaimed. “We were so busy trying out this new security alarm after the incident last night, it threw off my routine and I forgot my stuff so I thought I’d try the back door!”</p><p>“Why didn’t you just knock?” She sighed, trying to cool down from the very unnecessary shock. </p><p>“Well you were walking home so I didn’t think you’d be here yet! I tried the back door but that was locked too, so I called you!”</p><p>“You didn’t call me!” She huffed. She had been on her phone, it was in the room with her when she rang!</p><p>“I did, but it went straight to voice mail, your phone must be out of charge,” he gave her an apologetic look, patting down his pockets to suggest she should find hers and check. </p><p>And just as he had said, out of charge. It must’ve died somewhere between dropping it and the call. “Well if you had a back door key why didn’t you use it in the first place?” She rubbed her eyes. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off she was getting tired again, and she must’ve shed a couple of stress tears back there. Her mascara was starting to run. </p><p>“I just pulled the key out from under the mat,” he pointed over his shoulder. “Oh, you didn’t think I was a killer did you?” His look of concern edged into a more humoured one. </p><p>“Jeez!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Oh my god. I thought this was a home invasion and you’re laughing at me!” She was more relieved than anything though. She didn’t want detectives to find her dead body and go through her phone history to find her last call. It would make for a hell of a funny court trial to show her last phone call was to ‘Bill Nye my dad guy’. God. She hoped if she died she’d get onto an unsolved show. She refused to be murdered by a sloppy killer. </p><p>Paul groaned, coming up to wrap her in a hug. “I’m sorry. True crime is really bad for you Emma. I don’t know about that whole ‘having great survival skills’ if by that you just mean an unbearable sense of paranoia. That doesn’t sound very healthy. I think you should stop watching that stuff,” he tried to persuade her, resting his head on top of hers.</p><p>“No, actually. I think you should watch some with me,” she guided him slowly in their hug towards the couch. Her phone was dead so she’d have to wait for that to recharge now anyways, and what other hobbies did she have than putting on a good true crime documentary? “Leaving your keys at work is a beginners mistake. You need to educate yourself.”</p><p>Maybe Paul only agreed because he could see how tired she looked. They flopped down on the couch together, her strewn across his lap as he played absently with her hair. “Don’t put on a scary one,” he finally obliged. </p><p>“Okay. Take notes, babe,” she jeered just to show him she was all fine. </p><p>He gave her a chuckle in reply, just settling down into his seat and pulling up the couch blanket over the both of them. They’d probably just order in tonight and be in bed by nine. </p><p>“For a crime show, the intro sure is a bit of a bop,” Paul commented with a small laugh, trying to get into the mood. </p><p>“Just think of it like a movie Paul. They do dramatic re-enactments and everything. I’ll tell you when to cover your eyes. I think you’ll love it.”</p><p>“We’ll see,” he said with a tone that warned her not to get too cocky. She had been the one to mistake him for a killer after all. She might have a few more marks down for being scared.</p><p>But no, she still didn’t think she had to change this habit if it made her happy. The only thing she had to change were her contact names.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Criminal said I’m here to break in to CCRP and melissa said no❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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